


Broken

by Maia_Nebula



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past non-graphic (underage) rape, Traumatized Cyrus, Tyrus - Freeform, Understanding TJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 00:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19734463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maia_Nebula/pseuds/Maia_Nebula
Summary: His parents had told him that TJ could only come over when they were home, and that he had to keep his door open when he had visitors, but now they have the house all to themselves and they know it. It doesn’t take long before TJ leans over and kisses him.And it’s warm, so warm. It’s like they were always meant to do this, like they should have gotten to this point much earlier. But it doesn’t matter, they’re here now, and it feels right.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning.  
> I based part of this work on my own experience, and I'm sorry if it upsets anyone. It isn't graphic but please don't read it if it will trigger you. Stay safe.

His parents had told him that TJ could only come over when they were home, and that he had to keep his door open when he had visitors, but now they have the house all to themselves and they know it. It doesn’t take long before TJ leans over and kisses him.

As always, no matter how unlike him it seems, TJ is gentle. His lips are slightly moist and soft, very soft, and Cyrus wonders what TJ feels when he kisses him, because _his_ lips are always chapped, and he still doesn’t quite know what to do with them. TJ doesn’t seem to mind.

And it’s warm, so warm. It’s like they were always meant to do this, like they should have gotten to this point much earlier. But it doesn’t matter, they’re here now, and it feels right.

And then TJ moves. He places his knee on the bed and his hand on Cyrus’ back, leaning forward until Cyrus’ is lying down. Cyrus can feel his own legs bending, pushing him farther up the bed, repositioning him. TJ lies face down next to him.

He’s so safe. With TJ tenderly caressing the nape of his neck, with TJ moving them closer, with TJ _just there_. And his lips part for air, and TJ tentatively licks them.

Blood rushes to his face and he lets out a small gasp of surprise. They hadn’t done that before. TJ does it again.

The kiss deepens.

TJ’s tongue starts exploring and suddenly Cyrus wants to feel more, to do more, so he starts exploring, too. Their tongues intertwine, smooth, wet, and suddenly it isn’t warm anymore – it’s like someone’s turned up the heat. And then TJ pulls back and kisses him gently again.

Cyrus tries to pull TJ closer to him, but his hands are on TJ’s face, so there isn’t much pulling he can do. TJ chuckles, and pecks his lips again. Cyrus quietly (fakely) fumes.

TJ shifts again, a bit more of his body on Cyrus’, as he kisses the edge of his lips gingerly. He then continues down an imaginary path to his neck and concentrates there for a bit. Cyrus can feel his arousal growing, and his arms move so he can place a hand on TJ’s back and another on TJ’s waist. Now he can pull him down, can’t he?

His smirk disappears as soon as TJ, quite deliberately, quite gently, sucks a bit of his skin. The elicited gasp makes TJ chuckle again, but Cyrus is mortified.

“No,” he says quietly. He bruises easily after all. He feels TJ smile and move.

He can also feel more of TJ’s weight on him; TJ’s arm seems to have tired from holding him up. One of TJ’s legs moves on top of his, and he separates his to make room for it. The contact is brief, but it’s TJ’s turn to gasp, and now Cyrus knows TJ’s as aroused as he is.

And then Cyrus feels TJ’s hand going down the back of his shirt, and then under it. His skin tingles under his touch as it moves further down and everything shifts.

It’s hot, too hot now.

He can feel TJ moving back to his lips and he tries to concentrate on it, he really does, but his breathing speeds up involuntarily. He feels beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and on his hands, and everywhere else, really. And then lips are on his, and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

He’s back there. Back in the dark, in the coldness of his room, in loneliness of the night. That night. That night when his parents had gone out and his door hadn’t been shut, and he was too young to know. He didn’t know better; he never knew better – it was part of his stuff.

Bath time had been slightly off, as he seemingly had only some spots that needed to be cleaned. Calloused hands were careful doing that task; Cyrus bruised easily after all. Then he was allowed to airdry for the first time ever, and that was fun, and then he had been asked to go to his bed and lay down. He did so.

He is being pressed down against the mattress, soft fingers on his waist, soft, slightly moist lips on his own. Cyrus tries desperately to concentrate on this, but soon the present is gone.

Face down. He was face down, bent over the edge of the bed. He had a rash, he was told, and some cream had to be applied to it. To do so, he had to separate his legs as much as he could. The hands were calloused, but careful.

A leg strokes him _there_ and he gasps. TJ seems to like the sound and does it again.

It hurt. It hurt. There was no other way to describe it. It burned, and it hurt, and he screamed. But it was muffled in the pillow his face was pressed against. His small fists held onto his covers for dear life, his mind called on everyone he knew, but none of it helped. None of it helped. The smell enveloped him, and then he was cleaned again by calloused, careful hands before he went to sleep. But he didn’t sleep. That night, and many nights, he couldn’t.

TJ’s hand is now far too low, and he’s almost completely on top of Cyrus, still kissing him. But Cyrus can’t do this, he can’t, and tears fill his eyes as he pushes TJ off. Needless to say, TJ is startled.

Cyrus turns on his side and then curls up, wanting to disappear. He can feel the thrusts, and it burns, and it can’t happen again. A sob escapes him, and he can feel TJ’s eyes on him, though he can’t feel his touch.

“Cy?”

TJ’s voice is hesitant, and he feels the bed moving and flinches. TJ’s voice is louder this time.

“Cyrus?”

The tears are escaping, and he can’t stop them. He needs to get out of here _now_. So the moment TJ’s hand touches his shoulder, he jumps off the bed and basically runs to open the door.

“Leave.”

He’s looking at the floor (he can’t bear to see TJ’s face), but TJ doesn’t seem to hear him. He tries again.

“Please leave.”

“What did I do?” TJ’s voice is quiet. He sounds heartbroken, if there is even a sound for that.

“Please… just go.”

“Please, tell me what I did wrong.” And now the voice is teary, so Cyrus definitely doesn’t want to look at his face. “I’m sorry, Cy, I’m sorry. Please tell me, I won’t do it again, I swear.”

The words are grating on him, but the tears don’t subside, and he starts shivering. He can feel hands, careful, calloused hands, over only certain parts of him.

“Please,” he says, breaking. “Please leave.”

And TJ gathers his things and does. And Cyrus doesn’t hear the door slam, but he slams his.

\---

It’s summer, so he can avoid TJ as much as he likes. TJ seems to know this, too, as he’s stopped messaging Cyrus to see if he’s okay, and to apologize. Cyrus thinks it’s much better this way. He doesn’t really, but he knows he should.

He can’t believe he thought he was over this. He never told anyone, so no one ever knew. He was scared someone else would want to see his rash, and that the cream would have to be applied again, and that it’d be done by someone new, and that he’d be alone with that person in his unlocked room…

He shudders. He has to keep these images out of his head, and, right now, he’s unable to do so. He remembers that, afterwards, it had been like nothing had happened, and then his parents had divorced and they had moved. He’s thankful: he had loved that house before, but, after that, he couldn’t.

But Cyrus grimaces. He doesn’t want to lose TJ over this. He knows that, if he does, it’ll be wrong because TJ is careful, but he doesn’t have calloused hands, and he will never hurt him. With him, it might burn, but it will never hurt…

And he wants to be caressed by TJ again and he wants to touch TJ, too. So, after ten days, he makes the call. The call doesn’t go through.

He winces: maybe TJ has blocked his number? Cyrus did it once before, after all. He tries again, but nothing changes. He sighs and leaves his room.

The walk to TJ’s house gives him some time to clear his head so he can rehearse what he’s going to say. He doesn’t want to say too much, but he knows he has to explain what happened, and that doesn’t leave him with a lot of options. And, too soon, TJ’s house comes into view.

He rings the doorbell and waits. TJ’s mom opens the door a short while later and seems unimpressed.

“Hi, Mrs. Kippen. Is TJ home?”

Mrs. Kippen looks to the side before nodding and letting Cyrus in. TJ is standing in the next room and, after giving Cyrus a withering look, Mrs. Kippen leaves. A couple of seconds pass before he can hear her loudly banging things in the kitchen.

Knowing they won't be interrupted, Cyrus walks to TJ and hugs him. It isn’t what he has planned, but it feels right. Or ‘it feels right until TJ pulls away and sits down’. Cyrus frowns and follows suit.

“What do you want, Cyrus?” TJ’s voice sounds hurt, making Cyrus hate himself.

“I’m sorry.” Yeah, that part he had planned. That’s as far as he’d gone, though. TJ raises an eyebrow.

“‘I’m sorry’? For what? I still don’t get what happened. I called you and messaged you, and you ignored me for more than a week. And I’m sorry for whatever I did, but how can I fix it if you don’t tell me what it is?”

Cyrus sighs. He can’t think of a way to deal with this that isn’t unnecessarily traumatic.

“Look, you didn’t do anything, okay? I just panicked.”

“Panicked? You were crying!”

“It was all a bit too much, that’s all. I should have handled it better, and I’m sorry. You did nothing wrong.”

TJ is silent for a moment, and then he, well, _wilts_.

“Cyrus, I… I never meant to pressure you into doing anything that makes you uncomfortable. And I’m sorry if I somehow made you feel like you couldn’t tell me to stop…”

Cyrus eyes fill with tears – this is definitely not going how it should. But his tears just make the situation worse, as TJ moves to sit next to him, and it seems he’s itching to hold his hands.

“Cyrus, I know I’ve said it a million times, but I’m sorry, and I would take everything back if I could.”

Cyrus just takes TJ’s hands in his.

This is hopeless, all hopeless, and there’s no way to get out of this without telling the truth. So he gathers his strength and waits until he feels he can talk without dying…

His voice is soft when he says it. Three words is all it takes, and it seems as if TJ has no idea of how to process this information. But it reverberates in the air. At least, Cyrus feels it does, although all he has said is “I was raped” and he hasn’t repeated it.

He can feel TJ’s hands tensing in his. He doesn’t pull them away, though, but all color has drained from his face and Cyrus starts fearing TJ might blackout. He places a hand on TJ’s shoulder and its like he has loosened a spring: TJ is on his feet, furious and shaking.

Cyrus has rarely been so afraid.

“ _WHAT?_ ”

Cyrus has no idea what to do and stares.

“Who _the fuck_ did that?” Cyrus can’t reply before TJ continues. “ _I’m going to kill them_. I’m going to _kill them_.”

“Please, sit down, let me explain–” Cyrus says, trying to calm him down. It doesn’t work.

“I’m going to _fucking kill them_!”

“Please lower you voice – your mom–”

And TJ is on his knees, holding onto Cyrus’ forearms for dear life. Cyrus knows there’ll be bruises soon.

“Please tell me who did it. Are they in jail? Are they dead? Come on, Cyrus, tell me,” he pleads, but Cyrus shakes his head.

“It was a long time ago, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does! _How could they_?!” And with that TJ’s back on his feet, pacing feverishly. Cyrus tries to make him stop and suggests they go to the swings.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promises, hoping it isn’t true, and they’re off, with TJ slamming the door on their way out. Mrs. Kippen is a saint because she doesn’t even come out when everything explodes.

TJ fumes all the way to the park and Cyrus’ cheeks burn. He’s ashamed and afraid, and now more than ever he wants TJ to hold him, but he knows that he can’t handle TJ’s touch. Will TJ be careful? Are his arms bruised? Cyrus trembles. How can he even think this? Why had he pushed him away? Why isn’t he over it?

But soon they’re sitting on the swings and he has no more time to think. TJ turns to him expectantly.

So he tells him. He tells him everything. All but the person’s name, and Cyrus’ age, and their age difference (11, 17, 23 years difference, who even cares anymore?). It seems like it takes all the willpower TJ has for him to stay focused on the story, instead of going on a killing –or cursing– rampage.

“Do your parents know?”

Cyrus blinks and then shakes his head. TJ hugs himself and places a hand over his mouth. It takes him a moment, but he asks if anyone else knows. Cyrus shakes his head again, and TJ looks up and pulls his ear, apparently trying to ground himself.

“So you just let this go?” He asks. Cyrus nods, although TJ isn’t looking at him. TJ seems to know the answer anyway.

“Tell me how old you were. I think you have like 5 years after something happens to report it.”

Cyrus lowers his gaze. TJ is back on his feet.

“It was more than 5 years ago?! _Fuck!_ ”

All in all, Cyrus must admit that TJ is handling it pretty well, considering the subject they’re discussing.

“Look, it doesn’t matter–”

“It does! And if it doesn’t to you, it does to me! You were a small kid back then! How could this even happen?!”

Cyrus shrugs and TJ groans. “Cyrus, you aren’t exactly helping!”

“Well, what do you want me to say? Screaming won’t change anything, will it?”

“But you must feel something, I’m sure you do.” TJ is next to him again, holding onto the swing’s chains with all his strength. Apparently crushing things with his hands soothes him. Cyrus mentally rolls his eyes.

“Look, I'm sorry.”

“ _For what?_ ”

“It's my fault you’re feeling like this. All I wanted was for you to understand that what happened last week wasn’t your fault – it was all me. I promise I’ll work on it. I promise, Teej.” His voice falters. “I'm sorry.”

“How can you say that?” TJ whispers, more to himself than to anyone else. “How can you say that?” He insists. “You’re the kindest person I know. Even now, telling me this, something horrible you've had to live with on your own for so long, you're not worried about you, but about me. So how can you say that? It's not your fault. It isn't ‘all you’. There's a monster out there, who I hope has died a painful death, who hurt you so bad that anything you'd done would have been justified. But you’re the most wonderful person I know… They couldn’t break you.”

Cyrus can feel new tears rolling down his cheeks, but now they flow for a different reason: he can't remember feeling so loved before…

And then TJ is hugging him. TJ’s tenderly hugging him and kissing his hair, and, enveloped in TJ’s arms, it no longer smells like it did that night. And he can stand being touched by TJ again and it’s warm and he feels safe. And he realizes TJ is saying the truth: no matter how he’s felt all these years, no matter the darkness, the cold, or being so alone, he is not broken…


End file.
